When You're Close
by fagur fiskur
Summary: In which Castiel is pissed off about his newly human body, Dean is pissed that Cas is pissed, and the solution may be simpler than expected. Dean/Castiel


**A/N:** Wrote this last summer, before season 9 started to air. Takes place some time after the season 8 finale, wildly different from what actually happened on the show obv.

Title is taken from You Drive Me Wild by the Runaways

* * *

**When You're Close**

* * *

"These sheets smell strange."

Dean rolls his eyes, just barely resisting the urge to reach over and slap the back of Castiel's head.

It's been four weeks since the angels fell. The media has long since given up on trying to explain the strange meteor shower to the masses, focusing instead on important matters such as the birth of Kim Kardashian and Kanye West's baby.

Four weeks and living with Cas is beginning to become unbearable. The first week and a half he barely got out of bed and when he did, he would wander around the bunker like a damned spirit, not interacting with anyone unless they approached him first. Dean made sure he did all the things he needed to do in order to maintain his now one-hundred percent human body. Castiel thankfully got the hang of going to the bathroom right away but he would often need to be reminded to wash himself, and he never slept the whole night through. Dean knew he was plagued by nightmares, and he tried to talk to Castiel about it (hey, he wasn't a complete jackass all the time) but Cas refused.

Finally, Dean had enough and forcibly dragged Cas out of the bunker with him to buy him some clothes of his own. Up until that point, Cas alternated between wearing dead people clothes he found in the bunker and Dean's ratty old shirts and tees. After that first forced outing, it was like Castiel was snapped out of his waking coma. He started getting up at reasonable hours and even doing chores and helping with research.

But despite the fact that he is now active, Castiel is nowhere near used to his newly gained humanity. The fact that his body needs constant maintenance is something that frustrates him greatly. And then there's the fact that compared to his previous angel existence, Castiel is incredibly limited. He can't just fly around the globe to his heart's content and although he is still inhumanly strong, he's still only on par with the average demon. Both his new limits and his new needs frustrate and, Dean suspects, scare Castiel. And he takes his frustration out on everyone around him.

So, yeah, living with Cas is something of a nightmare. Sam clearly thinks so too, because he's the one who found this hunt and insisted that Cas and Dean go on it together.

("You told me to take it easy until I was better, Dean. Well, I'm still sick and you need some backup. Cas can still fight, even if he isn't an angel anymore.")

It's all just a bunch of bullshit excuses. Dean can tell when Sam is annoyed, and Sam has been beyond annoyed for the past week, ever since his patience for Castiel's bitching ran out. Dean is, despite all appearances, the more patient brother (having to spend most of his youth stuck in a single room with a kid brother kind of forced him to be) and even he is getting sick of it.

Of course he should have known Cas would find something to bitch about in the motel room.

"It's fine, Cas," Dean tells him. "Motel sheets always smell a little funky, doesn't mean that they're not clean."

"I don't like it."

Of course doesn't.

Still, funny smelling sheets or not, Castiel does finish getting himself settled in without further complaint. Dean relishes the silence. The drive on the way over had been a complete disaster. Cas had complained about everything from the music to the heat to the weird rattling that sounded when Dean turned on the AC to abate that earlier complaint about the heat.

"What is it that we are hunting?" Castiel asks.

"Sam didn't tell you?" Cas shakes his head. "Vampires, Sam figured. Five people have been found in this area in the last three weeks alone, all of them completely drained of blood. Looks like a whole nest of vamps, actually. Have to wonder why they're getting so sloppy now."

"Do you suspect something is amiss?"

Dean shrugs. "My instincts tell me there is, and I've learned I should follow them, but I don't have any clearer ideas than that." He yawns. "We'll figure it out tomorrow. Right now, I'm hitting the hay. I need my four hours of sleep, and that was a long drive."

Castiel grunts something in agreement. Dean kicks off his shoes but doesn't bother to get undressed. He lies down and closes his eyes, listens as Cas walks out of the room and into the bathroom. There is a brief silence, then:

"Dean, the faucet is leaky."

* * *

"I don't know what you think you're going to find, but you're welcome to take a look." The mortician glances doubtfully between the two of them. "The police ruled this as an animal attack."

"Right, one of five in the past three weeks," Dean drawls.

"It did seem a little strange," the mortician agrees.

Dean shoots him a charming grin. "Strange is what we do."

They follow the mortician into the morgue. There is a body covered by a white sheet still on the table and the mortician uncovers the upper half of it.

It's an older woman, probably in her sixties. Her face is slackened and sallow in death, and even though it's a sight that Dean should be well used to, it still leaves him unsettled. He's honestly kind of glad it does; at least he's not completely dead inside.

Dean drops his gaze from the woman's face to her neck. It is torn open but even so, there are distinct teeth marks. It is the work of a vampire, possibly more than one.

"I think we've seen enough," he mutters. The mortician nods sadly and covers the body again.

As they are leaving the morgue, Castiel grabs Dean's arm and squeezes it once, softly, then lets go. Dean doesn't know if it was for his benefit or Castiel's but he is pathetically grateful for the gesture.

He turns to look at Cas and plasters on a grin that feels fake, even to him. "Looks like it's vampires."

"That seems the most likely explanation," Cas agrees.

"Kind of sloppy, though."

"Could they be deliberately drawing attention to themselves?"

Dean frowns and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I don't know. They might be." His brows furrow as something occurs to him. "Or maybe they're not. Maybe they just don't know any better?"

"You have a theory."

"It could be that it wasn't a nest that moved into town but just one vamp. Then that vamp started turning people, and the newly made vampires either couldn't control themselves or they didn't realize that there might be someone who would notice all the deaths and draw the right conclusion. There's been a resurgence in vampire turnings since-"

Since Eve, he almost says. He catches himself at the last moment; this isn't something he wants to bring up around Cas, who will only feel guilty. It seems like Cas caught the gist of what he was saying anyway, because he casts his eyes downwards, a shameful grimace on his face.

Dean coughs awkwardly. "...Anyway, we should call Sam. See if he can dig up any recent disappearances in the area."

Castiel says nothing.

* * *

"You are definitely on to something." Sam's voice holds that quiet, intense excitement he always gets when they reach a break-through in a case. "Two people went missing three weeks ago, right before the first victim turned up. Alice and George Hartman. Brother and sister, twins, actually, both twenty-eight years old."

"So, what, some vamp rolls into town and decides it's time to a built a nest but doesn't bother to keep its offspring in check?"

"Hey man, it was your theory, not mine." Sam is quiet for a couple of moments. "The vamp that turned Alice and George probably can't control them. Newly turned vampires are easily the strongest; their intense blood lust gives them an extra kick."

Dean nods, even though he knows Sam can't hear him through the phone. He remembers feeling that blood lust, the way every beating heart sounded like a siren call, beckoning him towards disaster. He's thankful for the fact that he managed to resist long enough to get turned back, and a little saddened that it's obviously too late for Alice and George. But they're monsters now; vampires are well capable of feeling remorse but they've clearly chosen not to, just so they can sate their hunger. Dean will feel no guilt about putting them down.

"Hang on." There is the sound of typing from the other end of the line. "Says here that the Hartman family owns a crypt in the town cemetery. There's a picture. It's pretty big."

"Big enough for three grown vampires to squat in?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, just about."

"Great," Dean laughs. "Vamps that actually live in a crypt. Hey, you think they sleep in the coffins?"

"Dean-"

Just then, the toilet flushes. "Gotta go," Dean tells Sam. "Cas is just getting out of the bathroom, he's gonna be even crankier than usual."

"Good luck," Sam says, and Dean knows he isn't talking about the hunt.

Sure enough, Castiel's expression is as dark as a storm cloud as he exits the bathroom. He takes one look at Dean, then looks pointedly down on the table in front of him. Dean follows his gaze, to the hamburger wrappers that still lay spread about.

"What?" he snaps, in no mood for Castiel's passive aggressiveness.

"I realize that it is a difficult concept for you," Cas begins, sounding entirely too irritated about what is essentially a minor annoyance, "but you do need to pick up after yourself once in a while."

Dean glares at his friend. "Get the stick out of your ass, Cas." Castiel bristles and Dean decides to change the topic before they start full-on arguing. "I just got off the phone with Sam. He tracked down two disappearances around the time the killings started. Alice and George Hartman. Twins, twenty-eight years old. And we've got a likely hiding place, too."

Castiel nods grimly. "Then we should look into it."

* * *

They wait until the dark. While it will give the vampires some advantage over them, Dean doesn't want to risk anyone spotting them fighting inside a crypt. He doesn't want to imagine the mess they would be in if they got arrested.

The downside of having to wait until nightfall is that they have nothing to do and nowhere to be. Dean takes a brief nap but Cas wakes him up less than thirty minutes later without a clear explanation. Dean thinks he's just bored. They watch some television and Castiel has something to say about every channel they stop on, none of it complimentary.

"Then pick something yourself," Dean finally snaps, throwing the remote at Cas. It lands on his stomach and the startled expression of Castiel's face almost makes the next five minutes of bitching worth it.

Jesus Christ, this is getting out of hand. As soon as the case is over, Dean is taking Cas to a bar to get him heaving drunk and then possibly laid. That is, if Castiel's sunny exterior won't just scare everyone off.

A few excruciating hours later, they pile up in the Impala, armed with two machetes and a shotgun loaded with cases filled with dead man's blood.

The drive to the cemetery is mercifully short. Dean pulls out the instructions to the Hartman family crypt, along with a photograph of it. It's garishly decorated with about a dozen stone cherubs and a big-ass statue of the Virgin Mary standing above the entranceway.

The crypt proves more difficult to find than anticipated, since the statue of the Virgin Mary has been knocked off and lies in three broken pieces on the ground. From down there, she looks kind of pathetic and Dean resists an inexplicable urge to cross himself. If he believed in bad omens, he'd be nervous.

Since there is only one entranceway, there is no room for sneak attacks. Dean and Castiel take their positions by the door, Cas ready to knock it down on Dean's say-so.

Suddenly, Dean is tackled to the ground. A heavy figure shrouded in darkness pins him down, knocking the machete out of his hand and biting into his neck in a single moment, so that Dean has no time to react. He cries out in pain but the vampire on top of him is pulled away in the next moment by a furious looking Castiel. He flings the vampire into the crypt. Dean scrambles to his feet just in time to see Castiel behead the creature. The head of a shaggy-haired blond rolls to a stop just by his feet. It's George Hartman. Or was, at least.

Dean grabs his machete of the ground and, hearing the approach of soft feet, ducks just in time for his would-be assailant to go flying over his head. Before he gets the chance to attack, Cas is there, expertly swinging his machete and beheading the second vampire. Dean is a little pissed. That was his kill. He opens his mouth to reprimand Cas but the former angel takes off running. The third vampire, the one that turned George and Alice, has clearly decided that flight is his best option. Unfortunately for him, Cas is faster. He doesn't make it five feet before his head is rolling on the ground.

"You could have left some for me," Dean grouses. He fully expects an annoyed retort from Cas, so he's surprised when the other man walks up to him silently and grabs his chin. "What are you-"

Cas tilts his head gently to the side, examining the wound. Dean can feel warm blood still trickling from it, running under his collar, making the cloth sticky and itchy. It's not bleeding very heavily though, the vampire couldn't get a proper grip on him with his teeth before Cas pulled him off.

Finally, Cas lets go off his chin. His worry has been replaced by, surprise surprise, irritation. "You should have been more careful."

Dean's mouth drops open. "More careful? That could just as easily have been you!" Castiel's comments stings a little, to be honest. He's not used to people criticizing him after a hunt like that, not since Dad died.

"If it had been, I would have not been in as much danger," Castiel replies, his eyes hard. "If that vampire had bitten an inch to the left, it would have pierced your jugular."

"Well, it didn't." Dean can't believe this. Where does Castiel get off talking to him like some helpless damsel in distress? "Let's just go back to the car."

He pulls out the first aid kit as soon as they reach the Impala, intending to dress his wound. He would let it wait until they got back to the motel, but his neck is starting to itch from dried, crusted blood. He pulls out an anesthetic wipe and a roll of bandages. Castiel snatches them from him.

"Do you mind?" Dean asks, irritated.

Castiel gives him a pointed glare but otherwise ignores him. He tugs down Dean's collar and slowly begins to wipe the blood away, despite Dean's protests. Admittedly, they're faint protests. Castiel's hands are warm and surprisingly soft, and it's just easier to let him do this than to argue with him. Dean can feel his heart, which had been racing ever since he got jumped by that first vampire, begin to calm at last. The anesthesia stings a bit, but Cas is so gentle in applying it, pressing softly and carefully, like he doesn't want to cause Dean any more pain than is necessary, and Dean finds his eyes closing on their own as he relaxes.

Cas moves the wipe down Dean's throat in methodological movements, stroking down to his collarbone. Dean's heart begins to speed up again and every time Castiel's hand brushes his skin accidentally, he leaves it hot and flushing in his wake. A strangled moan rises in Dean's throat but he manages to stave it off. He opens his eyes again, pointedly ignoring the sensations dancing across his neck, making their way south. It isn't the first time Cas sets off his libido but he'll be damned if he lets it get out of hand.

After Castiel finishes dressing Dean's wound, he silently puts away the first aid kit and gets in the car. Dean stares after him a little dumbfounded, then snaps out of it and gets in the driver's seat. The drive back to the motel is tense and silent. There's something about the silence, not quite awkward. More loaded.

Dean looks over at Castiel. Although the former angel is quiet, his jaw clenched and cheeks flushed with anger. Dean narrows his eyes. Well if that's how he's going to be, then fine. He's not the only one who can pull the silent treatment.

They arrive at the motel parking lot. Dean turns the engine off and Castiel is out of the car in a flash, slamming the door behind him.

All right. That is the last straw.

Dean rushes out of the car, running behind Cas, who is nearly at their room. "What the hell are you so pissed about, Cas?"

Castiel ignores him and opens the doors to their room, slipping inside. Like he can hide from Dean in there. Dean has spent nearly all of his life in one motel room or another, he knows full well how difficult avoidance can get in such a small, cramped space.

He enters the room and slams the door shut behind him. The lock clicks shut. "I can't deal with any more of your bullshit tonight."

"So leave," Castiel suggests tersely. His arms are stiff at his sides, his hands balled into fists and his knuckles turning white. He's almost trembling with tension.

"The hell with that," Dean says. "I get that you're going through something-"

"You understand nothing," Castiel cuts in.

Dean practically sees red. "Cram it with your condensation, Cas. You don't think I know what it's like to lose my home? To lose my family?" Castiel has the grace to look ashamed, but Dean is nowhere near done yet. "Maybe I don't understand exactly what you're going through, but I'm trying to and I'm trying to help you. But all you do is mope and piss and moan, and I'm sick of it. Man the fuck up!"

Castiel had almost begun to look sorry but now his expression has hardened again. "You want me to 'man the fuck up'?" he asks, and Christ, Dean can almost see the air quotes.

Then he's striding up to Dean, who is sure he's about to get punched in the face. Instead, he's slammed against the motel door. A second later, Cas is on him, pressing him against the hard surface and kissing him.

Cas. Kissing him.

It's a brutal kiss, almost like an attack more than anything else. And Dean... Dean attacks right back. He returns the kiss with the same frightening intensity, biting at Castiel's lower lip hard enough to draw blood, wrangling a moan from the other man. Cas has his hands balled up in Dean's jacket and he spreads out one hand on Dean's chest, his pinky catching on Dean's nipple. Dean bucks up automatically as an electric current runs down to his dick. Castiel stays completely solid against him, not budging one inch. He pushes his tongue into Dean's mouth, and Dean can taste his blood. It shouldn't be turning him on even more but, well, Dean's pretty messed up.

Just as Dean begins to think about what the hell he's doing, just as panic starts to creep up on him, Castiel abruptly pulls away, dragging Dean with him. He turns them around and pushes Dean onto the bed. He falls in a sprawl on his back and Cas is on him again immediately. They kiss again, less brutal but no less hurried. Cas tugs impatiently at Dean's jacket and Dean lifts himself up slightly so he can slip it off. Cas, meanwhile, breaks their kiss and drags his lips down to Dean's jaw, a light, teasing touch. He lowers his head a little more, almost like he's searching for something and he apparently finds it, as he suddenly bites down on the soft skin just under Dean's jaw, right opposite the bandage on his throat. Dean's dick grows completely hard and he lets out a ragged moan. It's weird, how Cas could immediately find a hot spot Dean didn't even know he had, but it's Cas, and Dean is used to weird where he's concerned.

Dean raises his left leg, pushing it against Castiel's crotch, feeling his hardening cock through the denim. Cas huffs a stuttering breath against Dean's neck, now sucking on the sensitive skin there. Dean knows he will have an ugly mark there in the morning he won't be able to blame on the vampire, and he only hopes that Sam will be too awkward about it to ask any questions.

"Dean," Cas whispers urgently. Dean presses his leg against his dick again, grinding roughly. Cas makes a sound that's almost a whine and fuck if it isn't the hottest thing Dean has ever heard. Cas bats his leg away, then pushes down so that their cocks press together through a few layers of fabric. It's so much more intense than it should be and Dean thinks dizzily that he hasn't been this turned on wearing so many clothes since he was seventeen.

He decides to remedy the situation and starts by pushing Castiel's coat off his shoulders. It falls down on the floor next to the bed with a soft thump, and Castiel's shirt soon follows. Cas gets with the program quickly enough and tugs Dean's t-shirt off, then begins to unbutton his pants. Dean grinds upwards a couple of times, a completely involuntary movement. He feels completely out of control of the situation, of his own body. Castiel has a take charge attitude Dean didn't expect. He didn't expect to find it so hot either, but he does.

Cas gives up on fumbling with the buttons and growls "Off," at Dean, who feels like maybe he should be insulted by the demanding tone but instead just gets more aroused. He pulls down his own pants, leaving him naked, then does the same for Castiel, who is at least wearing underwear. Dean quickly divests him of them as well and then they're both gloriously naked, their skin pressing together warmly.

Dean fists his hand around Castiel's cock, feeling a little awkward until Cas gives a breathless, "Dean." He isn't used to handling cocks that aren't his own, hasn't done it in years, so he just goes with what he knows feels good on himself. It seems to be working for Cas, who whines softly into Dean's neck, pumping his hips so he's fucking the tight tunnel of Dean's fist.

Dean lets go for just a moment, then adjusts his hold so that he's holding both of their dicks and begins pumping again. Feeling Cas slide against him is so much better than Dean remembers it being. He moans, and moves his hand faster. Cas has at this point completely stopped reciprocating but that's fine, this is his first time and Dean should be the one taking control anyway. Next time he can be a more active participant.

Dean does a double-take at his own choice of words, just why the hell is he expecting a next time? Then a second later, Cas is coming, and the feel of his come hitting Dean's stomach, sticky and warm, is so unbelievably hot that Dean comes as well. He keeps stroking both of them, slowing down as they both recover from their orgasms. He lets go completely, his hand going limp on his stomach.

Cas collapses on top of him and Dean rolls away with a grunt. They lay on their sides, facing each other. Dean is looking somewhere in the vicinity of Castiel's collar bone. The reality of what just happened has hit him but he feels surprisingly calm.

At least Castiel's pissy attitude finally makes sense. Dean was inadvertently blue-balling him.

"Dean?" Castiel whispers. Dean raises his eyes to look into Castiel's and his dick gives a valiant twitch at the vision he presents. His lips are red and swollen, a small cut on the lower lip that's just beginning to scab over. His pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed and his perpetual sex hair more rumpled than ever.

"Yeah," Dean answers. He doesn't quite know what the question is but he knows that Cas is seeking some sort of reassurance, and he seems to find it in Dean's expression as the tension from his shoulder eases.

"I was not expecting that," Dean admits. Castiel's shoulders tense some again, so he quickly adds, "not that I didn't like it. But I had no idea you..." Dean doesn't quite know how to finish that sentence. Felt that way about me? That sounds incredibly girly, and Dean's not even sure this is about feelings. Maybe it was just sex.

The thought fills him with cold dread, which catches him unaware. He doesn't really know what he wants to happen next but the idea that all this meant nothing to Cas is horrifying to him. It's not a fear he wants to voice out loud, because that will only sound needy.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Cas leans over and gives Dean a kiss. It's soft and sweet and it leaves Dean feeling reassured, as mortified as he is to even be thinking something so pathetic.

He moves a little closer to Cas, as the chill of the room is starting to get to him and not for any other reason. He puts a hesitant arm around Castiel's waist, who reaches out to put his own hand over Dean's shoulder. It's the same shoulder that bore Castiel's hand print for months after he pulled Dean out of hell.

"Go to sleep, Dean," Cas tells him.

Dean huffs a soft laughter. "You too."

They burrow close (not cuddling, just conserving warmth) and Dean shuts his eyes, exhaustion finally catching up with him and within moments, he is asleep.

Neither one of them suffers from nightmares that night.


End file.
